


Northumberland Avenue

by lirin



Category: Psmith - P. G. Wodehouse
Genre: Board Games, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 09:58:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2808341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lirin/pseuds/lirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Psmith is overseeing construction of a new hotel, while Mike is temporarily in jail...or are they really?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Northumberland Avenue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Keiko Kirin (sakana17)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakana17/gifts).



> Thanks to my sister [Kittychan](http://archiveofourown.org/users/kittychan_in_wonderland) for brainstorming, contributing several plot elements (although we can't remember which ones), and generally providing helpful feedback.

The year was 1936, and there was a construction boom on Northumberland Avenue. Psmith’s car sat idling near the avenue’s magenta vistas, while he surveyed the results of his investment strategy. Perhaps the rise in construction was due to the avenue’s adjacency to Marylebone Station (as surprising as this adjacency might be to most individuals cognisant of London geography), or perhaps it was due more to the concurrent investment in Whitehall and Pall Mall. Whatever the reason, there were now four new edifices on Northumberland Avenue, and knowledgeable observers would agree that construction of a hotel was imminent.

Mike Jackson was definitely a knowledgeable observer, as he had watched the construction with a worried eye as it had progressed over the last few minutes while he had been sitting in jail. Or to be more accurate, his small metal cannon had been sitting in jail. To the relief of most readers, Mike was comfortably seated in a chair at Psmith’s (and Mrs. Psmith’s, although she was not present) dining room table, drinking a cup of tea and definitely not physically incarcerated, although his downcast expression would not have been misplaced on the face of any actual prisoner.

“Not again,” Mike said as he gazed glumly at the seven dots that stared up at him from the table. “If I managed to roll doubles enough times to end up in jail, you’d think I could manage to roll doubles one more time to get out.” He shoved the dice toward Psmith, who set down the handful of cash he had been counting and picked up the offending cubes. “Why are we playing this beastly game anyway?”

Psmith rolled the dice and then inserted his monocle before he inspected them. “A three and a three, comrade. Which brings me to—” he paused, performing a mental calculation— “Free Parking. What an odd location; is there nothing to be done there?”

Mike picked up the pamphlet of rules and flicked through it, mumbling something that might have been “…still think we should have played Salvo…” as he did so. “No, nothing. I think it’s the only place on the board like that.”

“Ah, even the busiest financier must have his restful moments. Alas, my time of repose must be of limited duration, because I believe it is still my turn—once again, a three and a three—Leicester Square, and it is as yet unoccupied!” He pulled a few bills from his wad of cash and tossed them in the box. “Comrade Jackson, I would like to propose a deal. I will give you one thousand pounds for Piccadilly.”

“And give you a monopoly? Not likely!” said Mike, and took a bite of crumb cake.

“One thousand five hundred. And Old Kent Road.”

Mike inspected the locations under discussion, and sighed. “Very well.” He handed over the yellow Piccadilly card.

“I will now build two houses on each of Leicester Square, Coventry Street, and Piccadilly,” said Psmith. “And a hotel on Northumberland Avenue.” He tossed more cash in the box.

“Err…d’you mind if I count that?” asked Mike. “I know you’re the banker and all, but just for good measure?”

“Of course,” said Psmith, proffering the box. “I have a good sense of humour, as the rules require of the banker, and I do not object to the whimsical audits of my fellow players.”

“Hundred fifty is three hundred for Piccadilly, and a hundred for a hotel on Northumberland,” Mike was muttering as he picked up various cards off the table. “And another hundred fifty is four—no, five hundred fifty, and—never mind, I’m sure it’s enough. Can I have more crumb cake?”

“As soon as I finish my turn,” Psmith said, picking up the dice. “Ah! Double fours!”

“That’s your third doubles, isn’t it,” said Mike. “Come join me in jail.”

“Such are the vagaries of fortune,” sighed Psmith. “Yesterday the high-rolling financier, today bending beneath the heavy boot of the law. And tomorrow—who knows what the morrow will bring.”

“Probably more doubles,” said Mike. He rolled. “But not for me. A five and a six.”

“Let us see if the scion of the Shropshire Psmiths has better luck,” that worthy declared. “Nix, a one and a two.”

“Why is sitting in jail all day while we throw dice supposed to be fun?” asked Mike, reaching for the aforementioned dice.

“Perhaps it is meant to remind us that happiness is illusory, so we should enjoy it while it lasts,” mused Psmith. “Or perhaps we should compare it to the true risks to life and limb and safety that we have encountered in some of our adventures—the aftermath of the boxing match we arranged in America comes to mind—so that this cardboard incarceration seems but a walk in the park or an afternoon tea in comparison.”

“Double twos,” said Mike. “I’m finally free!” His countenance shone with the joy inherent in this statement, but then as quickly was clouded again. “And four puts me on Northumberland Avenue, with your new hotel.”

“I believe that rent is 900 pounds,” said Psmith. Mike sighed and handed it over.

As Psmith reached for the dice again, a bustle of chatter came from the foyer—the absent wives making an appearance after a day of shopping. “How is your game going?” Phyllis asked as she walked in and set several packages down on the sofa.

“Not only would I have rather been playing cricket,” said Mike, “I believe I would have rather been putting in a day’s work. I’ve spent most of my time either paying rent or sitting in jail.”

“I don’t believe it is actually quite as bad as all that,” said Psmith. “After all, you have three of the four train stations, and now you have a monopoly of the two brown cards.”

“One monopoly and you have three? I think I’ll just say you won,” Mike said quickly. “After all, I’m sure Eve and Phyllis have bought some hats we need to admire or something.”

“No hats,” said Eve, popping her head in from the next room. “But we did find something we thought you’d enjoy, since you were spending so much time playing Monopoly. It’s another board game. It’s called Sorry.”

Mike groaned and took another bite of crumb cake. “All right, but if it has a jail, we're playing cricket instead."

**Author's Note:**

> For those who (like me) have never had the privilege of meeting a UK Monopoly board in person, its layout is pictured [here at the Monopoly Wiki](http://monopoly.wikia.com/wiki/Monopoly_\(UK\)).
> 
> Also, on the "World of Monopoly" website, the early rules ([1933–1935](http://www.worldofmonopoly.com/history/usa/rules-1933.php); [1936–1939](http://www.worldofmonopoly.com/history/usa/rules-1936.php)) can be perused, among many other bits of Monopoly memorabilia. Unfortunately, I was unable to find non-modern rules for the UK version, so I hope they are similar.


End file.
